The Wolverine II
by YeIIow Diamond
Summary: Logan has successfully altered the timeline in the events of Days Of Future Past. Now that he has returned to a better, more peaceful present, it doesn't mean that there are no conflicts that still arise. A new entity is preparing to reheat the tension between humans and mutants and Wolverine seems to play a pivotal role.
1. Chapter 1

A/N: A Reboot, if you will, of my Xmen story. Wanted it to fall more in line with the Movie Canon, ever since Days of Future Past and it's sequels came out. Still taking some creative freedom with some characters that haven't quite been revealed but have been implied in the Cinematic Universe.

Spoiler Alert

This story is my take of what the untitled "The Wolverine" movie sequel may be about, based on the Post Credit scene from X-Men: Apocalypse. If you haven't watched the movie, be prepared for some info in this story that may act as a spoiler down the line.

* * *

The first thing to alert him was sunlight.

He blinked hard without opening his eyes. Something didn't feel quite right. It wasn't the sunlight that was bothering him, or the comfortable softness under him, or even the sheets draped over him. He was supposed to be somewhere...

He opened his eyes and what met his sight was some sort of futuristic alarm clock. Apparently, he must have slept right through it, because he never remembered waking up that late.

Then it hit him.

He was supposed to be drowning.

Shooting up from his prone position almost immediately, he looked around wildly, attempting to understand where he was. Unfortunately, his vision was still a bit jumbled and free flowing, as if his mind was trying to recreate the body of water that by all rights he should be floating in right about now. The room's motif, the little he could see, was mostly of wood, oak probably, from the smooth design. Was this the Xavier mansion? Standing up from the bed, he instantly regretted his decision. The floor seemed to suddenly want to meet his face and he stumbled around, gripping the corner of a dresser across from him. He looked behind him to see the bed with a window to the right of it, it's blinds still closed. The opposite side of the bed was bordered by a small dresser with that futuristic clock he'd spotted moments ago. He blinked, as if seeing the room for the first time.

Perhaps he was. He turned his head back to the front, seeing the much larger dresser again with the closed door to the right. And the dresser had a mirror.

Was that him?

"Huh..." he muttered, taking in his reflection. For the most part, he looked about the same as the last time he'd looked into a mirror, except his hair just above his sideburns on either side were streaked with gray, as if to show he'd aged a bit. His hair was also cut just the slightest bit shorter than he remembered. Other than that though, his face looked largely unchanged. He glided a finger over the horizontal stripe of gray hair, not having seen gray in his hair since the...Well before everything that happened. The gray streaks in his hair must mean he was...

A noise outside the room caused him to start.

...

Right. He was in the Mansion. Of course there'd be large crowds of people here.

Swallowing, Logan gave himself a cursory glance to make sure he was decent. A dark hued green shirt and jeans. He nodded to himself and turned the handle.

Even with all of his mental preparation, everything seemed to awe him somehow. To his left, down the hall, he saw two teenagers just short of the next corner. It was Rogue. And was that Bobby? With a beard? At the moment, Logan didn't care if he looked like a deer caught in headlights. He stared at the oblivious couple as if trying to commit their faces to memory one last time. But that wouldn't be necessary, right?

Rogue turned her head just so in his direction, smiling at him in greeting. Bobby noticed her shift in attention, and silently greeted Logan as well, a grin on his face before they began to turn the corner that they were standing next to.

Deciding not to look any more awkward from where he stood, he stepped out of his room into the rather busy hallway, weaving through throngs of students, realizing that he'd never met a lot of these children and teenagers before. Or at least he thought he didn't.

He wandered off in the direction that Rogue and Bobby disappeared, vaguely taking note of the classrooms. He saw Kitty teaching a class in one room, standing next to a rather tall man, whom he remembered to be named Peter.

"Morning Logan. Late start?" came a disembodied question from behind him. He turned his head and saw Beast, complete with suit and glasses walking past him, a laugh coming from him as he took in Logan's disheveled appearance.

Wolverine's jaw couldn't drop any further, as if seeing ghosts everywhere he turned.

He continued down the hall, pondering, until he came to a small flight of stairs, remembering that Charles Xavier's office was on that floor.

Even on the lower floor, students were everywhere, and a flash of white hair immediately grabbed his attention. She was leading some students to their next class. He couldn't remember the last time he'd seen everyone so happy.

"Storm..." he said to himself. Saying it aloud almost felt like a confirmation that all of this was real. He didn't remove his gaze until she moved out of his line of sight.

Still taking in everything as if seeing it for the first time, he began to make his way towards the office when he saw the woman leaning on the doorframe leading into it.

It couldn't be her...could it?

He stopped in his tracks, just staring at her. It was the same woman that haunted his dreams during his journey in Japan. The one that kept him company beyond the grave until he finally learned to let go.

And here she was, in the flesh.

It _was_ her. He resumed his walk, slowing down considerably as he neared her, as if afraid any sudden movements would break this illusion.

"Jean," he found himself saying unconsciously.

Logan wasn't sure if it was his footsteps or his voice, but she sensed his presence and had turned to face him.

"Hey, Logan," she greeted, a smile playing on her face.

At the risk of sounding like some hopeless romantic, he had to admit that she looked even more beautiful than he remembered. Oddly, the woman's hair seemed a darker tint of red than it should have been. But it was only a fleeting thought. Perhaps, because it had been so long since he'd seen her, his memory of her wasn't completely accurate.

"Jean," he began, he was arm's length from her. Already, he could smell her faint scent, some kind of soft mix of cinnamon and nutmeg, and the rest of his sentence died in his throat. He wasn't sure anything he could say would convey how much he'd missed her.

Concern crossed her features at Logan's awkward pause. "Are you okay?" she waited for Logan to say anything but he continued to stare at her as if he'd seen a ghost.

"You're here," he breathed, that far away look still in his eyes.

"Where else would I be," she retorted, amused at the man's seemingly out of character demeanor.

The smile that played on her lips left him speechless again. Almost unthinkingly, he slowly reached for the strands of hair cascading down the side of her face.

"Woah!"

A hand gripped his wrist before he could touch her fiery hair, turning his head to the source of the voice.

"Easy, pal," Scott said with an amicable expression, a hidden warning behind it.

Logan couldn't help but let loose a small chuckle that sounded more like an exhale. "Well, some things never change," he said, as if in on some inside joke and lowered his arm.

With the same arm, he clapped Scott on the shoulder. "It's good to see you, Scott."

Scott glanced down at his shoulder, then back at Logan, a bit put off by his strange behavior. He shared a questioning glance with Jean, who shrugged almost imperceptibly.

"Uh-huh. See you later, Jean," Scott said, nodding to the both of them and making his way up the stairs Logan had just come from. Logan watched him go momentarily before turning back around, spotting the man he'd come to talk to.

"Professor," he said, almost in a daze. He looked almost exactly as he'd remembered, except he didn't look as weathered or weary before he had been sent back in time. That must mean this was the present, he figured.

"Logan."

He turned to face Jean again, almost forgetting that she was still standing next to him. This time, he made a conscious effort not to reach for her, at least to just touch her hair, although it was difficult.

"Is everything alright?"

Anyone else would probably be content to say yes and leave it at that, but for him, it was such a loaded question. But seeing her alive and well...

"Yeah," he said somewhat lamely after a pregnant pause. "Yeah, I think it is," he added, looking back towards the professor, partially to distract himself from looking at Jean. If he stared at her any longer, he'd probably do something stupid.

Seemingly satisfied with his answer, she smiled softly, making her way towards the stairs. He didn't take his eyes off her until he couldn't see her anymore. Looking back towards the office, he thought on how to approach the professor with his questions. Apparently, this had to be present day, but he could easily tell that he'd missed out on a lot, to say the least. He nodded to himself. He'd have to just go in there and ask him. He wasn't really one to beat around the bush.

He stepped inside, stopping short once inside.

"You did it," he announced.

The professor, who was reading a book behind his desk, saved his page with a bookmark, before dropping it unceremoniously on the desk.

"Did what?" he asked, sounding almost...annoyed? "Logan, don't you have a class to teach?"

As he was about to answer, he realized that Charles was floating sideways until he realized why.

"A-a class," Logan nearly stuttered, staring at Chuck's wheel-no, hover chair? "to...teach?" he finished, not even remembering what he'd just said.

"Ah, History," Charles said with a nod, as he hovered nearer. Logan was having trouble keeping his eyes off of the floating chair. It was definitely a sight he'd have to get used to. Then he realized what the professor said.

"History?" Logan repeated, nodding slowly to himself. He looked down, thinking of how to word what he wanted to say. "Actually, I could use some help with that."

"Help with what?"

"Eh, pretty much everything after 1973," he answered, waiting for the professor's response.

If he was honest with himself, he never would have thought he'd see Charles struck speechless like that before. He'd even had to collect himself with a breath.

Charles didn't say anything else, so he took that as cue to continue.

"I think the history I know is a little different."

"Welcome back," Charles greeted, realization dawning on his face.

Then Logan could tell, this was the same Charles that he'd left in 1973. The one who aspired to create this school for mutants, and here Logan was, standing right in the middle of it.

"It's good to see you Charles. It's good to see everyone," he said, those words holding a special meaning to him that no one else would ever realize.

Charles smiled. "Well, I had a promise to keep." They both knew that Charles didn't need to read his mind to know what he was referring to. Logan couldn't help but return the smile, as if he was visiting an old friend. And in a sense, it was the truth.

"You and I have a lot of catching up to do."

"Yeah," was the only thing Logan could think of in response.

"Please, have a seat Logan," Charles insisted, hovering, with the help of his chair, back to his desk. Logan followed and took a seat opposite the professor. Charles rested his elbows on the desk, steepling his fingers.

"What's the last thing you remember?"

Logan blinked once, thinking about how he felt this morning. That sinking feeling, the water, all the foreign metal that dragged him down into that abyss.

"Drowning."


	2. Chapter 2

Wolverine II

* * *

For the both of them, it had only felt like mere moments, when in actuality, hours had passed. Logan and Charles divulged information that the other did not know, creating a timeline of events that held their attention captive.

"So you're saying that Jean... _controls_ this Phoenix power?" Logan breathed, easily remembering the kind of power Jean had at her disposal before she had died in the old timeline.

"In a manner of speaking," the professor answered. "If anything, it is more of a mutual agreement between the two," he explained. "From what you've expressed, the Phoenix that you encountered was a byproduct of repressed mutant ability. But that is not the case this time."

"How so?" Logan was never a fan of high science, but it seemed that anything to do with Jean held his attention fully.

"Well," the professor began with a soft laugh. "It is probably not for me to say. You would have to speak with Ms. Grey eventually."

Logan nodded his acquiescence, idly tapping his fingers on his own knees. _Guess that explains why her hair seemed kind of different,_ Logan pondered. "I gotta admit, this new present, or timeline or whatever, it's pretty sweet."

Charles nodded thoughtfully. "Indeed, compared to what you've told me. But unfortunately, it's not quite the Utopia we both want just yet."

Logan nodded in understanding. "Shadow government projects?"

Charles only nodded in confirmation before leaning back in his chair. "Keen obversation."

Logan didn't say anything. The fact that he still retained his metal skeleton was enough to tell him that not everything was milk and honey in this new world.

"Well, beggars can't be choosers. We're all here, right?" Logan attempted at a mild joke.

The professor agreed completely. "Quite. And while there are some interesting differences here you'd probably be keen on reading, I feel you would probably want a few days to acclimate to your new environment." Charles moved his chair away from the desk, signaling Logan that he was preparing to leave the office. He stood up to follow him.

"Appreciated," Logan said, falling into step behind the Professor's hovering form. Charles led them to the Mansion's front door, which Logan opened for the both of them.

"Thank you," Charles said as they exited the building. "It seems that, because Trask never made headway into his research with the sentinels except for the most basic prototypes," he began as he took a cursory glance at the Xavier estate's quite large front lawn. "Much of the government funding in the coming years went into evolving common technology in society."

Logan also took in the sights. The front yard had a large Jumbo Tron posted into the ground, school announcements gliding across it's holo display. Surrounding it were terminals with their own displays, that were eye level with an average person. He didn't know what they were for.

"The present is definitely...fancier than I remember in the tech department."

"But you probably weren't interested in simply seeing the front yard," laughed the Professor. "I thought you might like to take a look at the upgrades our Danger Room has."

Logan couldn't help but grin. "Now that sounds interesting."

Without preamble, the Professor led the way back into the mansion and then towards an elevator built into the wall. It was something that brought memories rushing back to him when he first encountered the X Men.

The interior looked high tech and futuristic, the walls sleek and circular. And it was definitely very well lit.

"When we have the time, you must tell me more about these outposts from the other timeline. It may help us in finding more students," Charles mentioned casually. When Logan had told him of his experiences in the timeline before it was changed, he mentioned different Weapon X facilities that held mutants captive.

Logan nodded. "Sure thing."

The elevator door opened, allowing them entry into the underground hallway. It looked exactly as it did when he'd first met Jean. He exhaled. He needed to take his mind off of her. He followed Charles to a door that was simply labeled 'DANGER' and stepped through after the door opened.

For one, it was definitely bigger than the old one he remembered. The room looked less like a holo deck from Star Trek and more like a giant room you'd find in a Tron movie. It was an extremely wide open space, something that makes sense for a room that creates hard light illusions. He looked around shortly before bringing his gaze up where he could see a horizontally wide window. The lights were off, but he could still make out a console desk of some sort in there.

"After our battle with Apocalypse, we learned how important it was to keep up our training against the probability of hostile mutants. This larger room addresses the circumstances where we may need small or large groups at one time," Charles explained. "While avoiding conflict with other Mutants is ideal, we can't ignore the possibility."

"Impressive," Logan approved.

"I was wondering where you ran off to, Logan. Professor."

The voice startled him as he nearly leaped backwards. His fists were at his sides, and he nearly forced his claws out of his knuckles.

Her voice wasn't the same as it was in the past. It was that slightly deeper voice with a metallic timbre, that was somewhat husky but still sounded feminine and sensual.

She cocked her head to the side, confused by his sudden wariness. Even the professor seemed a bit surprised by his jumpiness.

"Sorry, I uh..." Logan exhaled after noting Charles' confused expression. Logan shook his head and pinched the bridge of his nose. Mystique looked older than he'd last seen her, almost exactly the same as when he'd first met her on Ellis Island, when Magneto kidnapped Rogue.

But those events at the U.N. Summit...It never happened, right?

She no longer looked like that young woman he met in the past, who's eyes had thatside of innocence to it, but the femme fatale that would leave his senses on edge.

Except she was wearing clothing. It looked a lot like the uniform he had worn once, but without the yellow trim lines. That and she was looking at him like he'd grown a second head. From his reaction, he might as well have.

"Raven, please excuse Logan," the Professor chimed in. He's just feeling a bit...out of place." The amusement was obvious in his voice.

 _Laugh it up, Chuck,_ Logan thought, chagrined, not caring that he could very well read his mind. He really did feel silly, realizing he hadn't thought his reaction through. Although she looked _exactly_ as she did the very first time he'd met her, this wasn't the same Mystique. Or at least, he thought so. Chuck didn't seem at all surprised she was here.

Mystique seemed to look him up and down, as if searching for something before giving up. "Well, just came to tell you that your students decided to follow your example and play hooky."

A short pause played out before Logan responded with an "Oh," realizing that Mystique was talking to him. Still, the woman raised her eyebrows as if expecting him to say something else.

"What?" he shrugged.

She seemed to be annoyed by his reaction, before rolling her eyes. "I'll be upstairs, Charles," she said before eyeing Logan darkly and heading towards the elevator.

"What's with her?" he asked Charles once she disappeared from view. He looked at the Professor to see that he had a not so innocent smile on his face.

"Now that would make for quite an interesting story. But first, you might want to sit down for this," he replied, leading the way back to the main floors.

* * *

After Charles' explanation, Logan's expression remained impassive, yet his words betrayed his incredulity. He looked around the Headmaster's office, attempting to avoid the Professor's amused expression.

 _He's enjoying this way too much,_ Logan thought. Before the time travel, Charles didn't seem to have _this_ much of a mischievous sense of humor.

"You're kidding," Logan more stated than asked. The Professor seemed to shrug with his eyebrows, the smile not leaving him.

"While it would be funny, I'm not one to pull a prank on someone who just time traveled."

Logan couldn't argue with that, and true, although Charles was probably barely holding in laughter, he wouldn't joke about something like this. It's not his style.

"You're not kidding," Logan said in defeat.

"So let me get this straight. Apparently, I saved her life after she saved mine and now we're," Logan shrugged his shoulders trying to word his thoughts. "An item?"

Charles only nodded.

"You know she'll be pissed once she knows I'm not the same Logan."

There went Charles again with that mischievous half smile again. "Perhaps," he replied cryptically.

"Alright," Logan breathed out, feeling as if his energy was expelled at the same time. "I'm gonna have to talk to her, but," he exhaled. "First, I need some time to do _somethin'_."

"Well, I do have something you can do for me."

"I'm up for anything."

Charles nodded. "Through Cerebro, I've tracked down a Mutant professional thief. He can turn Potential Energy into Kinetic Energy."

Logan frowned. "And that means..?"

"He can charge inanimate objects into explosives, simply by touching them long enough."

Logan had to whistle. "Damn."

"I need you to question him. He may have valauable information concerning some captive Mutants."

"Can't you just..?" Logan ventured, opening his hands expectantly.

"Read his mind?" The professor nodded. "I've tried, but he has powerful mental shielding. If I try to put too much effort, it could alert him to my presence."

Wolverine nodded in understanding.

"Alright, just tell me where I need to go."

Opening a drawer behind his desk, the Professor procured a folder and handed it to Logan. "This is a dossier so far of what information I could glean from his mental profile. His next hit should also be down there."

"Thanks."

"And Logan!" The professor called before he could leave the office. "There _is_ a motorcycle with your name on it in the garage. No need to repossess Scott's."

Logan exhaled in amusement before heading to the Garage.


	3. Chapter 3

Wolverine II

* * *

The difficulty about state of the art security isn't hacking into the system, but rather, what you do after you bypass it. That was this thief's particular motto as he placed his finger on the side of the sensor. After mere seconds, it sparked and fizzed out without fanfare. The figure casually observed his surroundings before slipping inside, able to push open the door as if he owned this particular building. With it being night time, there weren't too many sources of light outside besides the occasional street lamp and storefronts. There was a comfortable darkness inside of the building as the intruder entered.

He sighed, stretched his back, and readjusted the lapels of his well worn trench coat and the strap to his messenger bag as he swaggered over to the nearest table and placed his hands flat.

"If Gambit was a secret stash a' files, where would ah be?" he asked aloud, slowly surveying the room with his odd looking eyes.

Dr. Essex wanted some files that were located here. He didn't know what the stoic man wanted them for, and he wasn't about to pry. Ever since he had helped the thief several years ago, he didn't need to. He trusted the man with his life.

Red irises imposed on darkly tinted sclera quickly scanned every nook and cranny. There was the kitchen sink, a fridge to the right, a painting above the sink faucet, a double cabinet to the left of the sink-

"Wait a minute," Gambit sniffed, striding over to the sink. Ignoring it for the moment, he opened the fridge, looking around almost frantically before spotting a case of beers.

"Ah," he grinned, helping himself to one and popping the lid. Taking a sip while refocusing, he closed the fridge door, his eyes continuously being drawn to the painting above the sink. He nodded to himself, certain there was something amiss.

Gingerly, he placed his beer down (He didn't want to spill any) and stroked his chin, examining the corners of the painting up close. The artwork itself wasn't very interesting, it being some sort of Picasso piece. Gambit always thought paintings were overpriced for the effort that went into them. But hey, he wasn't one to talk. Cautiously, he hovered his hands over the painting's frame before gripping it and slowly pulling it towards himself. Once the frame gave way just so, he lifted the whole painting, carefully placing it on the counter next to his beer.

In place of where the painting had been mounted stood a safe, complete with an analog combination lock.

"Smart," Gambit approved, almost disappointed that the safe wasn't electronic. At least with an electronic safe, he could overload the circuit and make off with the payload. But with an analog safe, simply exploding the locking mechanism could set off an alarm. Nodding once, Gambit pressed his ear against the safe's surface next to the dial and got to work.

"7...15...20...16," he mumbled, straining his ear to be doubly sure he wasn't overlooking any part of the combination. A satisfying click sounded and the safe's door gave way.

"Ah yes...Let's see what we 'ave here," he half-whispered, spotting a simple manila folder inside. Grabbing it, he flipped through the contents leisurely, skimming through the texts and diagrams. Contained within were lab reports and analyses from several scientists. A Dr. Kinney, Sutter, Cornelius, and Rice.

"Looks about right," he sighed with satisfaction, pulling his messenger bag to his front, placing the folder inside. Once that was done, he quietly closed the safe door before replacing the painting, taking a few extra moments to make sure the frame looked as it was supposed to. Nodding, satisfied with his handiwork, he silently shuffled out of the building, before stopping halfway at the door.

He shook his head in mute amusement as he grabbed the beer he'd left on the counter.

Once outside, his ears were again welcomed by the sounds of cars passing by on the road and other city noises. He scratched the stubble on his chin before making way towards his motorcycle.

To find someone leaning casually on the front of his bike.

"Gambit."

Gambit frowned, his eyes narrowing in distrust. He looked the man up and down. He was fairly tall, about 6 ft. From his posture, he could tell he was more dangerous than he let on. His hair at his sides seemed to spike upwards somewhat imperceptibly, reminding the thief of a canine predator. In short, the man didn't look like any pushover.

"Wha' _you_ want?" the younger man questioned, his Louisiana accent unconsciously coming out a bit thicker. He readjusted the strap on his bag, his gaze briefly flicking between the stranger and his own motorcycle.

The strange man raised his hands in a gesture of peace. "Look. I just need your help." He shrugged his arms as he straightened and stood up, reaching into his brown jacket. He raised his free hand again, signifying he didn't have a weapon and slowly pulled out a handheld folder.

"There's some people I'm looking for. Was hoping you could tell me something."

While the first thought that occurred to him was wondering how this man knew his name, let alone how he'd even found him, he decided the safest course was to not antagonize the stranger. He clicked his teeth, fingering the custom baton in his pocket idly before reaching for the paper, all the time eyeing him warily.

He eyed the man one more time before focusing on the paper.

"What Gambit get in return fuh this... _sensitive_ information," the thief asked, studying the man's face. To the stranger's credit, he didn't seem fazed by his obvious attempt to gain more leverage from the exchange. Gambit needed to know just how much this guy knew. The folder that the gruff looking guy handed to him was a map marking the general area of a military facility. The younger had never been there himself, but he knew it was one of Essex's facilities based on the location.

"Don't know nothin' Sorry," Gambit lied smoothly, handing the paper back to the man. "Hope you find what ya lookin' fo', mon'Ami," he sighed as he mounted his motorcycle.

"There's mutants imprisoned there."

As Gambit's back was turned, the stranger couldn't see the confusion that crossed his face.

Mutant prisoners? In one of Essex's buildings? This guy had to be lying. But for what reason, he didn't know.

"If you don't believe me, we both go," the man insisted, looking Gambit directly in the eye. The thief eyeballed him hard, and rubbed his face in mild irritation. Wasn't he in the middle of a job? And he just met this guy; he didn't know him at all.

"A'ight. Less' say you tellin' the truth. How I know you ain't some normie tryin' to kill some mutants?"

 _SNIKT_

Gambit whistled appreciatively. Three claws, nearly three feet in length, burst from between his knuckles, much like an animal when retracting it's claws. Like a Wolverine.

"Are those metal?" he asked as a bewildered afterthought.

"So you're gonna help me?" his new associate inquired, the claws receding as quickly as they had appeared, back into his arm.

Gambit didn't know why he was agreeing to this. Well, actually he did. Even if this guy's story was bogus...He couldn't just ignore that their might be some mutant prisoner that he could rescue. Reminded him too much of his teen years. Ignoring this would feel way too forced. He always did hope to go on some sort of adventure. Maybe this was it?

Sighing in what was possible defeat, Gambit handed the paper back to him.

"Alright, Mr..."

"Logan."

"Logan," Gambit exhaled lazily. "I'll show you where it's-"

The sudden burst of electricity from a nearby light post seemed to also short-circuit the thief's train of thought. His eyebrows lowered in confusion when the source of the felled property, a Humvee, recklessly turned the corner of the nearby intersection, coming to a sudden stop several yards away from the mutant duo. Strangely, the engine was left running. Logan held a similar expression to Gambit's, his fists balled. The Cajun guessed that he was prepared to pop those metal claws of his at a moment's notice.

Gambit reached for his pocketed baton out of caution.

"You know whoever's driving dat?" he asked, hoping that it was a friendly of some sort.

"Nope."

Logan's answer was confirmed by the backseat passenger slowly lowering. The interior was dark, nearly as pitch black as the night sky above.

A hail of gunfire erupted from the open space.

* * *

"She's just a girl..." came a harsh whisper off to his side.

He scoffed inwardly. Of course she would start sympathizing with the _thing_ in the other room. Why was she suddenly worried about the ethics of the program so late in the game?

Oh right, she gave birth to that freak. Dr. Xander Rice absently scratched at the sides of his face, feeling stubble from a recent lack of shaving. Not that it was on purpose. He just couldn't get sleep these past few days. The sooner this whole thing was over and done with, the better. He was seated in front of a one way window, and the desk directly in front of him was wide enough in length to accommodate at least two persons. The doctor currently being a pain was Sarah Kinney, one of the other scientists chosen for this Program dubbed 'Weapon X+'.

Across the monitor though, was the source of Rice's sleepless nights. The freak of nature with a metallic skeleton coated in Adamantium. She was seated on a chair in a white, featureless room, staring ahead. It made him uncomfortable that it seemed she was staring directly at him. Dr. Kinney happened to be her mother.

"Relax, Ms. Kinney," Rice drawled insincerely, tapping his upper lip with a mechanical pencil with an impatient fervor that contradicted his otherwise stoic posture.

"We'll only be conducting rudimentary tests at this point," he concluded. "Only to see if the Adamantium took." He leaned towards the microphone.

"Weapon X-23."

The girl on the other side of the monitor continued to seemingly stare directly at Xander. She blinked.

"For testing purposes, retract your claws."

Sarah and even Xander winced slightly at the subject's display as the claws pierced through the flesh of her hand between her knuckles. The metallic bone claws held a reflective quality, lamp light bouncing off it's razor sharp edges.

Sarah turned to regard Xander.

"Please, is this necessary?" she asked, wringing her hands.

Rice grit his teeth behind his closed lips in disgust. He would never understand how she held sympathy for the clone of that monster.

But he needed to breathe. It wouldn't do for him to get over emotional. But, dammit, this was a one way window.

X23 continued to stare at him.


	4. Chapter 4

Wolverine II

* * *

Logan and Gambit made a running dive, intent on escaping the hail of bullets intending to rip them to shreds. Even after their rough landing, the sounds of guns recoiling sounded for several extra seconds before it once again became silent. And it was eerily so, as if any sudden movement would reset the harsh sound of firearms in an instant. The wall they managed to find cover behind was, fortunately, made of concrete. It would hold for a while, should the gunmen decide to take aim at it. It was safe to say they weren't spotted taking shelter behind the wall.

"Shit!" came a harsh whisper from the thief. Logan glanced to his side, immediately assuming that the thief might have gotten caught by a bullet or two. Instead he was staring at his bike, a grief stricken pain clear in his eyes.

His motorcycle had been shot to hell, smoke rising from the destroyed vehicle like the aftermath of a grill at a cookout. Even though Logan didn't yet have an opinion of Gambit, he did respect bikes and had a small pang of sympathy for his temporary ally.

Logan kept his ear open and breathed in the air, one of his passive mutations allowing him to filter faint scents in the air.

"There's three of them," he announced quietly and with a surety. His tone left little room for doubt.

His friend however, regarded him as though he grew a second head. "How in da hell are you even sure a' dat?" he shook his head, his words a bit harsher than intended. Without another word, Logan simply took a deep breath and broke into a run towards the vehicle. Gambit scowled as if questioning the man's sanity.

Logan focused on the scents and the car, trusting his instincts.

He leaped, aiming his arms forward, like a caricature of a speeding missile.

His eyes were still open, even as he knew he could barely see due to the darkness of the vehicle's interior. Even so, his leap had struck true, his claws suddenly meeting some resistance, along with a shout of pain and the sudden smell of blood in the air.

Somewhat hoping he hadn't killed someone so soon after time traveling, he quickly returned his claws back into his arms, flinging the man he'd just attacked through the center of the car and through the windshield. During all of this, the driver and front passenger turned quickly, raising a pistol and machinegun, respectively.

Without hesitation, the mutant kicked the driver's seat as hard as he could while simultaneously diving out of the window he'd first entered through. The driver grunted, his head having collided with the steering wheel and promptly lost consciousness, while the passenger took potshots, narrowly missing Logan, who was now safely out of the confined space. Logan concentrated on steadying his breathing, keeping an eye out for the remaining attacker.

The machine gunner stepped quickly out of the vehicle, about to squeeze the trigger, only for a small, golf ball sized object to careen towards the gunner's chest. The object, glowing a faint light purple, knocked him off of his feet and a small distance backwards, as if he were hit with an explosive, to slam into the vehicle's side. The sheer force of the collision, both by the metal ball and his crash into the vehicle made the hapless aggressor crumple to the ground, knocked out. Logan turned to Gambit, an eyebrow raised. The Cajun made a show of shrugging his shoulders. Even after being told of Gambit's powers beforehand, to see it in person was still quite impressive. Logan wouldn't say that aloud though. The man seemed full of himself as is.

Logan examined the bodies, the one he'd stabbed clearly dead. He shook his head, exasperated, as he searched it's jacket for anything useful. After some time, he'd gotten a hold of an ID of some sort, large acronyms drawing the eye towards the center of the ID.

"You know what 'M.R.D.' is?" he queried, standing up and handing the card to thief. He examined it momentarily, before shaking his head.

"Nah," he answered honestly. "Never heard of 'em." Logan sighed, his shoulders sagging. "I can still guide to 'dat facility though, on one condition."

Logan regarded Gambit warily.

"You hook me up with a new ride. Gambit sees you owe him a new bike."

"Fair enough," Logan nodded, looking one last time at the bodies on the ground. "You don't mind holing up in a school for a few days, do ya?"

The thief's brows lowered. "A school? What kind?"

* * *

With little more to talk about, Gambit hitched a ride in Logan's truck (Wolverine was pleasantly surprised to find that he still had it, even after his time travel shenanigans), and the large rig pulled off from the lot that the older mutant had parked it in.

After only a few minutes, they were on the interstate.

"So," Gambit ventured, resting his right arm on the passenger window while regarding Logan. "What's 'dis 'School for Mutants' like?"

The older man glanced briefly at him, not having guessed that Gambit was a chatty type. "It's okay, I guess. To every one else, it's a school for higher learning. But we learn to control our powers there."

Gambit nodded approvingly, scratching at his chin. "You like a bodyguard or somethin'?"

"I teach history," Logan answered, his occupation sounding strange even to him. If his passenger's face was anything to go by, it sounded strange to him, too. He laughed lightly at Logan's expense, fighting a grin.

"Thought you was gonna say, like, a gym teacher, at least." He looked Logan up and down before he laughed again. "History, eh?"

Logan suppressed the urge to chuckle. Gambit definitely seemed like a scoundrel, but he seemed down to earth and almost always at ease. Something he could tolerate for now.

A loud pop was heard and Logan glanced again at Gambit to see he'd helped himself to a stash of his beer, effectively lowering his opinion of the Cajun.

"How did you..?" he began to ask, but thought better of it. "Aren't you a bit young to be drinking?"

Indignant, the young thief glared hard at the older man. "I'll have you know I'm 24. Plenty old enough to be drinkin'."

"Right," Logan deadpanned, much to Gambit's chagrin. "Next time, just ask if you want one."

"I _am_ a thief," the boy retorted, taking a swig. Logan looked at him before shaking his head, deciding to remain silent at the kid's crack and focusing on the road.

* * *

The two had finally reached the Mansion, where Logan escorted the young man to Professor Xavier. Leaving them to figure out the next steps, Logan made his way back to his room, feeling as though he forgot to ask the prof something.

He opened his door to find Mystique lying on his bed, propped on an elbow.

Oh.

"Raven," he greeted, wishing he'd talked to the professor before making a beeline to his room.

"You didn't tell me you left," Raven announced, a hidden accusation in her words.

"Was I supposed to?" Logan retorted evenly, removing his jacket to hang in the closet, careful to not let his eyes wander across Mystique's natural form. Strangely, the casual clothing she wore seemed to Logan to leave little to the imagination, even if it was as simple as a white tee and pink sweatpants. Truth be told, it was extremely off putting for him to find out he was suddenly in a relationship. What kind of auto pilot was his past self on anyway? Now, he didn't find Mystique unattractive at all, in any sense of the word, as memories of the time she tried to seduce him (and almost succeeded) in the woods resurfaced in his mind. It was just that besides obvious circumstances, the relationship seemed to come out of nowhere. In no rational way could he ask her how they ended up being together. At least until he talked to the Professor. _Stupid, Logan, stupid,_ he chided himself.

"I thought we decided you were going to stop the unannounced disappearing act," she answered, wrenching Logan from his thoughts.

Logan turned to face her. She hadn't moved from her spot on the bed and Logan was struggling to keep his gaze leveled at her eyes.

"Yeah, I forgot," he answered lamely, seating himself on the edge of the bed. This prompted Raven to embrace him from behind, linking her arms gently around Logan's torso. This made Logan feel the slightest bit awkward, as this Raven at least was a bit of a stranger to him. He wasn't sure how similar she was to the Mystique he knew in his original timeline. Or if they were even similar at all. He admitted that her touch wasn't all that unwelcome, however.

"So, I heard from Charles that you brought back some kid. You seem to be making a habit of that," she ventured, resting her chin on his shoulder.

This reminded Logan of the conversation he'd had with Chuck before he left to track down Gambit. Some events that he remembered had happened in this new past, with slight changes. Such as the fact that Mystique never joined the brotherhood. Briefly, this made him wonder what Magneto was up to.

"Yeah, the guy might know where to find some captured mutants," he answered after a pause.

For a short moment, the shape shifter didn't respond before speaking up again. "You know you can tell me anything, Logan. Are you feeling okay?"

Logan inclined his head a bit to catch a glimpse of Raven's face and her hair, which reminded him painfully of Jean. Apparently, he and Raven were together long enough for her to pick up on when he was acting strange, which, while loathe to admit it, it was very impressive.

While not really privy about telling her how he was effectively not the same person Raven fell in love with, he felt he owed her to at least be somewhat honest.

"I've been...having flashes of memories I don't really remember," he confessed. And it was the truth. Raven would be sure to presume he meant having recollection of events that never happened. And it was true. Just not in the way she might be thinking.

"Ah," she nodded, where as she may or may not have been intentionally massaging his shoulder in doing so. "I see."

Raven repositioned herself so that she was seated directly next to Logan, and squeezed his arm affectionately. She looked as though she were remembering something herself.

"I know it's something more up Charles' alley, but you can still talk to me about it, too, alright?"

"Yeah," Logan acknowledged with a slow nod.

She seemed satisfied with his answer, giving him a not so chaste but drawn out kiss on the lips. She smiled softly before standing up to leave. Logan watched her go, and he sighed, his upper body dropping to the bed, still warm from where Raven had been occupying the bed.

"Me and Mystique, huh?" he whispered to himself. He toyed with the idea in his mind, although he felt he was betraying Jean's memory by even entertaining the idea.

But it was a weak excuse, and he knew it. Changed timeline or no, Jean was with Scott, and the fact of the matter was that he was attracted to a woman that was already taken. In a way, everyone, Jean included were strangers to him. He wasn't so sure of how close to them he was, minus the obvious status of him and Raven. It was about time he let Jean go.

But he and Raven...

Logan stared at the ceiling, his hands folded over his chest, while he pondered this.


	5. Chapter 5

Wolverine II

* * *

"Laura?"

The young woman looked up from her reading to regard the older woman that softly called out to her. While everyone else referred to her as 'X-23', Dr. Sarah Kinney only talked to her as Laura Kinney. A person, not a weapon. Dr. Kinney was the only one that didn't treat her like a science project or a freak of nature. She didn't seem to stare through her like all the others did, as if trying to figure out what made her tick.

"How are you feeling?" she asked, her tone laced with concern.

The room that X-23, or Laura, was seated in would be considered her personal room, although it didn't look much like one would expect of a teenage girl's room to look like. The walls were an off-white, a muted cream color. No posters of a favorite boy band or musician adorned the walls, nor were there any props of sentimental value to add character to the interior. Just the pure essentials. A dresser, filled with clothes that all looked the same. Tube tops that were perhaps stitched with Kevlar, it's sleek design giving the impression of some sort of stylish body armor. The top bared the midriff somewhat and came with matching pants that seemed to be made out of the same material. The books were provided by certain doctors, mostly concerning fighting techniques, military tactics, and assassination methods. Besides that, the bathroom, the bed, and the 4 walls were all there was to keep her company.

Even though she didn't quite know how to express it, she did appreciate when Dr. Kinney came to visit her room. Everyone else only showed up to take her to another examination room or to ask her questions, writing down her answers on a clipboard. Every time _they_ came, she resisted the urge to grit her teeth. Occasionally, she fantasized of killing them, but she was sure that she wasn't supposed to be harboring such thoughts.

Dr. Kinney, on the other hand, would sometimes bring her novels called comic books, or a blank journal with pages with no words on them. Dr. Kinney called it a diary. Laura just so happened to be reading one of those comic books when she came in to check on her.

"I'm fine," she said evenly to the doctor. "I really...enjoy these...comic books," she felt the need to add. She was sure that she hadn't expressed her gratitude well enough until Dr. Kinney smiled softly, taking a seat on the edge of the bed next to her.

"I'm glad to hear that," she assured the young mutant, holding laura in a motherly embrace. "Have you slept well?"

Laura considered lying but thought better of it.

"I've been seeing things," she admitted, albeit somewhat hesitantly. "Sometimes I see a man with claws like mine," she said at almost a mumble, glancing at Sarah. The older woman nodded, encouraging her to continue. "Except he had three claws on one hand, instead of two." Laura had taken to idly rubbing the space between her fingers.

Sarah was trying to think of how to explain the young girl's relationship to the man she would sometimes see in those dreams.

"Is he my father?"

"I..."Sarah exhaled, gently squeezing Laura's shoulder. Laura looked...sad, for lack of a better word. Moreso than usual, considering the circumstances. "Yes. Yes he is."

It was a cop out from explaining the whole truth and she knew it, but she just _couldn't._ Laura's face had remained stoic, but Sarah could clearly see that spark in her eye at Sarah's confirmation.

She was hopeful.

But about what? Meeting Wolverine? How would he even react to knowing he was cloned? And before that, how would the two ever meet?

Weapon X had dropped off the radar soon after the 1980's, only to resurface and disappear again, the same time that Director Stryker would be pronounced missing. She wouldn't be surprised if the Wolverine had suddenly shown up simply to take revenge. She couldn't in good conscience say that she didn't sympathize with him.

But...maybe Laura _could_ meet this Weapon X. If anything, it would be better than Laura's life as it was now.

"Laura," she said softly. The woman looked up from examining her balled fist.

"I'm going to find him. Your father," Sarah stated her intent, sounding more certain than she felt. "It's about time you've left this place."

"What do you mean?" Laura inquired, confused by the strange tone in Sarah's voice. The older woman simply smiled. "Don't worry. But remember, don't tell Dr. Xander or anyone what we've talked about, okay?"

Laura didn't hesitate to nod her agreement. Sarah trusted her enough to keep a secret. So she would trust Sarah in return.

"You won't have to be stuck here much longer, I promise," Sarah assured her, pulling Laura into a quick hug. As Sarah exited the room, she knew that what she was going to attempt would most likely endanger her own life. But she had to try. It wasn't fair to Laura to be caged up in this facility, only allowed to venture less than 100 meters from the grounds. She would find Laura's template...somehow.

* * *

After an unintended nap, Logan made his way downstairs into the first floor hallway, his thoughts idly trailing between Jean Grey and Mystique. Unfortunately, he felt conflicted, which, if he was honest with himself, he had no right to be. Chasing after a woman in a relationship was simply not right. Even he wouldn't stoop that low. Especially seeing how upbeat Scott was. Before he had died in the alternate timeline, he fell into a self destructive depression and Logan tried his best to talk to him. But he was no Professor Xavier. Now, seeing as how it was erased into oblivion, every time Wolverine was near Jean, he felt light, confused, and melancholy all at once. By now, antagonizing Scott was very low on his list of priorities.

Rubbing the stubble under his chin with no real purpose, he wandered towards the professor's office, noticing Gambit walking alongside the Headmaster's floating form.

"Professor," Logan greeted, which Charles returned with a nod. "You two figure out what's next?"

Charles nodded, turning his attention to Logan.

"We have. Our friend here will be able to guide you to a repurposed facility off the Canadian border."

Logan exhaled irritably. While he was aware that Canada was his home, all he could remember from there were bad memories. Needless to say, Stryker was at the forefront of those bad experiences. He wondered if Stryker was alive right now. Did he die around the same time as his old life, or was he now still alive and well in this new reality?

Logan wasn't sure what he'd do were he to cross paths with him again, assuming he was still among the living.

"It's not Weapon X, is it?" he asked idly.

"I'm afraid it is," Charles expressed, the sympathy clear in his eyes. Weapon X was infamous among government ranks, and for a telepath like Xavier, getting some sort of information about it wouldn't be too hard. Knowing what process Logan went through in the program, one could only imagine the pain and suffering mutants experienced in it, especially those without healing factors.

"Remy pinpointed an area of interest and I was able to map a specific spot through Cerebro."

Gambit nodded at Charles' explanation. "I don't even think my boss knows about the place. It has info on the same doctors that he's tryin' to learn about."

Logan nodded, crossing his arms as he digested the news.

"How far is it to get there?"

The professor's expression seemed to look through him. "Logan, you don't _have_ to lead this mission. I can send some others."

Logan had an inkling of why he was suggesting this. "Look, if it's because of that program, I swear I'll be fine," he shrugged.

Charles leaned back in his chair, exhaling slowly. "It's a military compound stationed near Alkali Lake."

Oh.

 _Oh._

Gambit, who was a bit out of the loop, watched Logan's reaction a bit warily. Seeing him suddenly upset was a bit jarring, seeing as how the guy could shake off bullets.

 _Peaceful thoughts,_ Logan coached himself.

"Logan?" Charles eyed him expectantly.

He nodded once, eyes closed, finally getting his breathing under control, belatedly realizing his pulse had sped up. "No problem, Chuck, I can take care of this." He sounded much more collected than he actually felt.

"Alright," Charles relented, although with visible hesitation. "But I'm sending someone with you two-" Charles raised his hand, cutting off Logan's objections.

"This is a rescue mission. While I trust you, you need someone experienced as back up. Remy has agreed to assist you," he said, glancing at the Cajun, "but we do need a measure of stealth involved."

"I _can_ be stealthy," Logan persisted.

"Yes, well, these people already know you're involved," he gently reprimanded him.

Logan sighed deeply, not needing a hint as to what he was talking about. That gunman he'd unintentionally killed, part of some unknown group called MRD. No doubt the claw marks he'd left on the body and possibly that vehicle were clear calling cards. Logan swore under his breath. Charles definitely won this argument.

"You two will be taking the Blackbird. Your pilot is already waiting for you," Charles dismissed, hovering away from them and back towards his office.

Logan shook his head. He hated flying.

* * *

The hangar looked the same as it did in the 2000's, when he'd first laid eyes on the sleek plane when he went to rescue Rogue from Ellis Island with the X-Men. The blackbird itself, though, looked a bit different. For one, it seemed a bit bigger, if that was possible. The thrusters looked almost non existent, and the spot by the underbelly where he knew the cloaking device was near, looked almost...alien.

"Hot damn, y'all got a jet," Gambit commented, resting his chin on a gloved hand. "And 'dis is a school?" he asked rhetorically, shaking his head. Logan merely shrugged as his answer.

Gambit and Wolverine made their way up the already lowered ramp, with the older mutant leading the way.

Logan took in the sights of the 'same but different' interior of the Jet, only distracted by Remy's approving whistle.

"Yeah, it's not bad in here," Logan agreed, having taken a look at the seats. There were armrests on either side, and the seats looked to be made of some sort of mix between Velcro and a cushion-like material. The dominant colors of the interior were a steel dark blue and blacks. The lighting was dim but just bright enough to make out people's faces easily. Most importantly for Logan, it'd be easy to fall asleep.

"Well, I wasn't just talking about the plane," Remy laughed a bit, nodding his head towards the cockpit, guiding Logan's attention.

"I guess you're our 'backup'," Logan said, not able to help inserting just a little sarcasm.

Raven turned her head, a smile already on her face. "I'm surprised you already didn't know I was here. Our new friend beat you to it." Logan resisted the urge to roll his eyes. Raven was right though. He should have realized who it was through her scent, which always smelled of aromatic incense and something else he couldn't identify.

"So what can you do?" Gambit cut in. Raven only scoffed in amusement and her form, clothing included, seemed to change as if small tiles were flipping over. In that instant, there were two Gambits.

"That answer ya question?" The Faux Gambit asked, his accent a flawless imitation. The real Gambit's surprise was visible, and he pointed at Raven while looking between Wolverine and Mystique.

"Now dat was impressive," he told Logan, nodding in approval. The Faux Gambit's appearance shimmered just like before, and Raven was again at the pilot's seat.

"Thank you," she said, starting the preflight check on the Jet.

"You wouldn't happen to be under 30 would you?" Gambit asked, his bold question conflicting with his aloof visage. Mystique glanced at Gambit from her peripherals, shaking her head in amusement while continuing to work the controls.

"You flirt with all the women like that?"

"Well," Gambit answered, sitting up in his seat. "Just the ones that catch my eye."

"I am definitely too old for you, little boy," Raven declared, laughing at Gambit's unimpressed expression.

"Like I told bodyguard over there, I'm 24. I'm younger than I look," he said proudly.

"Preaching to the choir," Raven said, her shoulders shaking a bit in muted amusement.

Logan sat down heavily in a passenger seat on the front row closest to the cockpit, shaking his head. "Let's just get this over with. Not a fan of flying," he attempted to change the subject. He began leaning back in the chair in an attempt to get some extra shut eye.

"I thought you loved flying," Raven retorted idly and Logan sat up in his chair quickly. Raven was still facing forward. Logan cursed himself inwardly. He'd have to make sure he didn't make a habit of slips like this until he was ready to tell Raven the whole truth.

"Uh, just a rough day is all," Logan deflected, leaning his head back into the chair again. "You know where we headed?"

"Yeah. It should take us about 8 or 9 hours on Autopilot. It'd be faster, but we don't want to alert anyone we don't need to."


	6. Chapter 6

Wolverine II

* * *

Xander watched the camera recording with a shake of his head. How could Sarah not understand? He glared at the monitor and at the Doctor as she conversed with the clone, making promises to free it. He sighed, cutting off the video feed and rubbed his temples in an attempt to calm his nerves.

Time was drawing near where he'd have to get rid of her. If she managed to free X-23...

He squashed the thought immediately. That wasn't going to happen. Especially since he'd planned a contingency for something like this. Oh yes, he was somewhat expecting Sarah to trying pulling off something like this. It still came as a surprise though to see her try. He glanced down at his workspace. The computer he'd just cut the feed on occupied most of the table, with post it notes littering the border of the device. But all of that was unimportant. He opened the drawer located directly under the table, and pulled out an unassuming vial which contained no liquid, and a gun shaped object. He loaded the vial into the pseudo-gun, stuffing it in his pocket.

These developments were advancing his plans more quickly than he'd like, but he'd have to adapt. By any means necessary, Weapon X had to die.

Discreetly, he stood up from his space, nodding idly at the scientist adjacent to him. Almost religiously, he fingered the weapon in his pocket as he felt almost not in control of his actions while making his way towards X-23's room.

Was this what it felt like when about to commit premeditated murder? He didn't feel any crushing guilt at the prospect of what he was going to do. And why should he? Weapon X had taken his family away from him. This was revenge, after all.

No, not just revenge. Justice.

Wolverine was going to get what was coming to him. And anyone else who got in Xander's way.

Murdered by her own child...A tragic end, he lamented. Silently, he angled the gun as he considered the ramifications of what he was about to do.

Before it even registered, he'd already came to a stop in front of the familiar, featureless door, save for a label marked 'Dr. Kinney'.

* * *

1973 - The Potomac

With a start, Logan was pulled from unconsciousness, only to realize he was struggling to breath. His body seemed to take note as well, and as if on autopilot, forced the offending fluid out of his lungs and out the mouth. coughing out the remaining water, he struggled to focus his bleary eyes.

Where the hell was he?

He remembered being hired to protect his employer's daughter. But constantly protecting someone every night and being forced to keep close to each other, coupled with _plenty_ of alcohol was a formula for disaster.

...So how did he end up on a boat surrounded by what looked like the Military? Maybe he finally did mess up big time and his employer had government connections...

He attempted to lift his head, but his nerve endings cried out in objection, as if wordlessly questioning why he would do something so ridiculous and stupid.

He let his head drop roughly, as even easing it back down to the floor caused too much pain in his neck and chest area.

"Shit!" A gasp was audible from above his prone form; apparently one of the men standing around him. "He's still alive!"

A silence ensued, and only the sound of water crashing against the hull of the barge could be heard.

"Is he conscious?" It was a different voice, this one carrying an air of authority.

"Yes sir...but...I don't see how", yet another voice answered. Logan could hear the shuffling of boots.

"This guy should be dead. If not from the rebar, then by a severe case of tetanus," the voice continued, sounding almost afraid.

Logan tried again to lift his head, only for his body to once again protest.

He blacked out.

* * *

Like how one's face felt when beginning to feel the first droplets of rain, so too did it feel like for Logan, slowly coming to.

His unplanned sleep was interrupted by a rocking sensation; he opened his eyes, realizing he was inside of a vehicle. A van from the looks of it. The area he was in was very spacious, if not a bit dark. The only source of light was a modestly sized window ahead of him, showing his frame of reference moving away from the road.

Lifting himself up, he felt strong resistance on either side of him. He looked down his nose to see that he was strapped securely onto a gurney of some sort.

"WhatDaHell..." he slurred, a bit confused as to why he sounded so sluggish. He blinked hard, belatedly realizing that he was no longer feeling pain _everywhere_ like before he strangely went unconscious.

"Feeling better?"

The voice knocked him a bit out of his stupor, realizing he was being watched. Steadily, he turned his head to his right, to see someone sitting next to him in a chair fastened to the wall. Although it was a bit dark, he could still see clearer than most would in the same situation.

"I have to admit, never thought I'd see someone force rebar out of their body like that."

"Who are you?" Logan questioned, still attempting to blink the bleariness out of his system. It was fading fast, but it was still there.

"Someone who's here to help you."

Logan exhaled through his nose, narrowing his eyes.

"Pardon me if I think you're full of bullshit," he mocked, glancing around the interior and testing the strength of the straps. They were snug, and to his chagrin, not weak enough to muscle his way through.

"You can trust me," the voice said rising from their seat to kneel at his side. It was a man in military uniform. He recognized the voice from before when he was half conscious on that barge; he wasn't sure how long ago that was. If he was a betting man, he was certain this guy had ulterior motives. He glanced at the man's name tag.

"Major Stryker," he read aloud. "Why don't you let me out of here, and I don't kill ya."

To his confusion, the man only smirked before the man began to, for lack of a better phrase, turn inside out. It seemed as though a wave of blue spread throughout his body, replacing the skin it passed into a form more reptilian and blue in texture. And more feminine.

"What the fuck..." Logan breathed, a bit put off by the random magic show.

'Major Stryker' was no longer in front of him, but some naked blue chick with fiery red hair.

Logan swallowed, a bit of a loss for words as he stared her and her...assets down.

The woman seemed to not have noticed, or perhaps was ignoring his obvious ogling, seeming to laugh at his last statement.

"Charles did tell me you'd lost all your recent memory," she whispered idly, beginning to undo the gurney straps. "Guess there was something to that time travel thing after all..." she added more quietly, although Logan was able to pick up on her words.

"Time travel? Charles? What are you going on about?" the man asked quietly after catching on to why she was whispering, although seeing that she indeed was releasing him from the gurney, he wasn't feeling as irritated as before.

"Promise you're not going to try anything, first," the blue woman insisted, her hands hovering over the straps securing his wrists. Logan sighed roughly, although he had no choice.

"Fine," he relented. She finally undid the straps and Logan slowly sat up with a little effort, as the van occasionally rocked from whatever road it was driving over. Sighing in exasperation, he rubbed his wrists. Apparently, he'd been strapped down for some time, if the rapidly healing marks on his wrists were any indication. He looked away from his wrists to the broad to see that she was staring at the nearly vanished marks on his wrists.

"You didn't take advantage of me while I was out, didja?" he couldn't help but quip. To his amusement, she nearly sputtered a response, but recovered quickly.

"What?" she asked, a bit disgusted by his crass humor. "That's the first thing you ask after I get you out of that?"

"It broke the ice, didn't it?" he retorted calmly with a raised eyebrow. He swung his legs over the gurney to rest his feet on the floor.

"That and you're naked," he added matter-of-factly. He paused, looking her up and down. "You _are_ naked, right?"

She only rolled her eyes with a shake of her head. But she couldn't refute his logic, as ridiculous as it was. He did get her to respond to him, after all. She made her way to a corner of the section of van they were in, grabbing a duffel bag that escaped his notice. It would have been in his blind spot had he still been strapped in. She looked at him, putting a finger to her lips, in a gesture of quiet.

"The driver," she mouthed silently, and Logan understood. He witnessed her shapeshift a second time, transforming into the form of the 'Stryker' person again.

She knocked on the wall that led to the driver space.

"SitRep! What's our ETA?"

The wall's door opened, and the front seat passenger breathed in surprise to see a blue skinned woman and the man from earlier. Claws of bone shot through the man's knuckles and he held them at the soldier's throat.

"Do as we say, and we all walk away from this alive," the clawed man assured.

* * *

With a start, Logan awoke, flinching at the realization he was inside of a jet. Logan wasn't sure how long he was out, but outside the Jet was nearly as dark as the interior. Logan had already gotten a bit more sleep, even though he didn't really need it after his prior rest at the mansion. He'd taken to looking out the window of the Jet. The landscape from this high up looked like puzzle pieces that all came together as they rolled past so far below, littered with blinking lights that might have come from any mix of cars, buildings, and streets.

That dream...It felt like more than a simple dream.

Was it a memory?

Perhaps he was actually beginning to experience the memories of this timeline. He rubbed his face, resolving to speak with Charles once returning to the mansion.

He felt body heat draw near him and come to rest next to him. He broke his gaze from the window to see Raven watching him, seated adjacent to him.

"How are you feeling?" the shapeshifter asked after a pause.

"I'm fine," Logan answered evenly with a nod. "Why?" Raven only sighed, expressing her annoyance by crossing one leg over the other.

"I'm worried about you is all," she answered somewhat irritably, as if expecting him to already know. "You haven't been having more memory flashes?"

Logan sighed and sat up, still processing that Mystique would be worried about him. "A few," he clarified with a shrug.

Raven nodded, looking thoughtful. "Maybe after this mission, we should take a small break," she said, trailing a finger along his arm. "Just the two of us."

"Sounds..." Logan hesitated, unsure of being somewhere with Raven on his own. "Sounds fine," he finished. He attempted a half smile. He really needed to sort this out before Raven figured it out on her own. He'd rather she found out on his terms than some sort of accidental reveal.

"Raven."

"Hm?" She cocked her head to the side, studying his expression. Logan swallowed, breaking eye contact. He suddenly felt his tongue lock up on him. Was it nervousness? This was unlike him, and he didn't like the feeling that gave him.

"Nothing," he assured, exhaling through his nose. That dream, or memory left him with plenty to think about. From what he could interpret, it took place right around the time his consciousness returned to the present. Maybe it would give him some insight into what happened.

A faint beeping alerted the both of them, although Remy was still unconscious on the other side of the plane. Raven looked towards the cockpit before standing up.

"We'll be closing in on the facility in about a half hour," she reported. "I'll let you know when we're landing." She made her way back to the cockpit and took a seat at the pilot's chair.


End file.
